In VN’s novel Ada (1969) Marina (Van’s, Ada’s and Lucette’s mother) tells Van (the narrator and main character) that Belle (as Lucette calls her governess, Mlle Larivière) has cited to her the cousinage-dangereux-voisinage adage:
Naked-faced, dull-haired, wrapped up in her oldest kimono (her Pedro had suddenly left for Rio), Marina reclined on her mahogany bed under a golden-yellow quilt, drinking tea with mare’s milk, one of her fads.
‘Sit down, have a spot of chayku,’ she said. ‘The cow is in the smaller jug, I think. Yes, it is.’ And when Van, having kissed her freckled hand, lowered himself on the ivanilich (a kind of sighing old hassock upholstered in leather): ‘Van, dear, I wish to say something to you, because I know I shall never have to repeat it again. Belle, with her usual flair for the right phrase, has cited to me the cousinage-dangereux-voisinage adage — I mean "adage," I always fluff that word — and complained qu’on s’embrassait dans tous les coins. Is that true?’
Van’s mind flashed in advance of his speech. It was, Marina, a fantastic exaggeration. The crazy governess had observed it once when he carried Ada across a brook and kissed her because she had hurt her toe. I’m the well-known beggar in the saddest of all stories. (1.37)
Darkbloom (‘Notes to Ada’): Ivanilich: a pouf plays a marvelous part in Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilyich, where it sighs deeply under a friend of the widow’s.
cousinage: cousinhood is dangerous neighborhood.
on s’embrassait: kissing went on in every corner.
In Tolstoy’s novel Voyna i mir (“War and Peace,” 1869) the cousinage-dangereux-voisinage adage is cited at least twice:
-- Как секреты-то этой всей молодежи шиты белыми нитками! -- сказала Анна Михайловна, указывая на выходящего Николая. -- Cousinage dangereux voisinage, -- прибавила она.
-- Да, -- сказала графиня, после того как луч солнца, проникнувший в гостиную вместе с этим молодым поколением, исчез, и как будто отвечая на вопрос, которого никто ей не делал, но который постоянно занимал ее. -- Сколько страданий, сколько беспокойств перенесено за то, чтобы теперь на них радоваться! А и теперь, право, больше страха, чем радости. Все боишься, все боишься! Именно тот возраст, в котором так много опасностей и для девочек и для мальчиков.
-- Всё от воспитания зависит, -- сказала гостья.
-- Да, ваша правда, -- продолжала графиня. -- До сих пор я была, слава Богу, другом своих детей и пользуюсь полным их доверием, -- говорила графиня, повторяя заблуждение многих родителей, полагающих, что у детей их нет тайн от них. -- Я знаю, что я всегда буду первою confidente моих дочерей, и что Николенька, по своему пылкому характеру, ежели будет шалить (мальчику нельзя без этого), то все не так, как эти петербургские господа.
-- Да, славные, славные ребята, -- подтвердил граф, всегда разрешавший запутанные для него вопросы тем, что все находил славным. -- Вот подите, захотел в гусары! Да вот что вы хотите, ma chere!
-- Какое милое существо ваша меньшая, -- сказала гостья. -- Порох!
-- Да, порох, -- сказал граф. -- В меня пошла! И какой голос: хоть и моя дочь, а я правду скажу, певица будет, Саломони другая. Мы взяли итальянца её учить.
-- Не рано ли? Говорят, вредно для голоса учиться в эту пору.
-- О, нет, какой рано! -- сказал граф. -- Как же наши матери выходили в двенадцать-тринадцать лет замуж?
"How plainly all these young people wear their hearts on their sleeves!" said Anna Mikhaylovna, pointing to Nicholas as he went out. "Cousinage-dangereux voisinage;" she added.
"Yes," said the countess when the brightness these young people had brought into the room had vanished; and as if answering a question no one had put but which was always in her mind, "and how much suffering, how much anxiety one has had to go through that we might rejoice in them now! And yet really the anxiety is greater now than the joy. One is always, always anxious! Especially just at this age, so dangerous both for girls and boys."
"It all depends on the bringing up," remarked the visitor.
"Yes, you're quite right," continued the countess. "Till now I have always, thank God, been my children's friend and had their full confidence," said she, repeating the mistake of so many parents who imagine that their children have no secrets from them. "I know I shall always be my daughters' first confidante, and that if Nicholas, with his impulsive nature, does get into mischief (a boy can't help it), he will all the same never be like those Petersburg young men."
"Yes, they are splendid, splendid youngsters," chimed in the count, who always solved questions that seemed to him perplexing by deciding that everything was splendid. "Just fancy: wants to be an hussar. What's one to do, my dear?"
"What a charming creature your younger girl is," said the visitor; "a little volcano!"
"Yes, a regular volcano," said the count. "Takes after me! And what a voice she has; though she's my daughter, I tell the truth when I say she'll be a singer, a second Salomoni! We have engaged an Italian to give her lessons."
"Isn't she too young? I have heard that it harms the voice to train it at that age."
"Oh no, not at all too young!" replied the count. "Why, our mothers used to be married at twelve or thirteen." (Volume One, Part I, chapter 12)
Когда Пьер подошёл к ним, он заметил, что Вера находилась в самодовольном увлечении разговора, князь Андрей (что с ним редко бывало) казался смущен.
- Как вы полагаете? - с тонкой улыбкой говорила Вера. - Вы, князь, так проницательны и так понимаете сразу характер людей. Что вы думаете о Натали, может ли она быть постоянна в своих привязанностях, может ли она так, как другие женщины (Вера разумела себя), один раз полюбить человека и навсегда остаться ему верною? Это я считаю настоящею любовью. Как вы думаете, князь?
- Я слишком мало знаю вашу сестру, - отвечал князь Андрей с насмешливой улыбкой, под которой он хотел скрыть свое смущение, - чтобы решить такой тонкий вопрос; и потом я замечал, что чем менее нравится женщина, тем она бывает постояннее, - прибавил он и посмотрел на Пьера, подошедшего в это время к ним.
- Да это правда, князь; в наше время, - продолжала Вера (упоминая о нашем времени, как вообще любят упоминать ограниченные люди, полагающие, что они нашли и оценили особенности нашего времени и что свойства людей изменяются со временем), в наше время девушка имеет столько свободы, что le plaisir d'etre courtisee часто заглушает в ней истинное чувство. Et Nathalie, il faut l'avouer, y est tres sensible.
Возвращение к Натали опять заставило неприятно поморщиться князя Андрея; он хотел встать, но Вера продолжала с еще более утонченной улыбкой.
- Я думаю, никто так не был courtisee, как она, - говорила Вера; - но никогда, до самого последнего времени никто серьезно ей не нравился. Вот вы знаете, граф, - обратилась она к Пьеру, - даже наш милый cousin Борис, который был, entre nous, очень и очень dans le pays du tendre...
Князь Андрей нахмурившись молчал.
- Вы ведь дружны с Борисом? - сказала ему Вера.
- Да, я его знаю...
- Он верно вам говорил про свою детскую любовь к Наташе?
- А была детская любовь? - вдруг неожиданно покраснев, спросил князь Андрей.
- Да. Vous savez entre cousin et cousine cette intimite mene quelquefois a l'amour: le cousinage est un dangereux voisinage, N'est ce pas?
- О, без сомнения, - сказал князь Андрей, и вдруг, неестественно оживившись, он стал шутить с Пьером о том, как он должен быть осторожным в своем обращении с своими 50-летними московскими кузинами, и в середине шутливого разговора встал и, взяв под руку Пьера, отвел его в сторону.
When Pierre went up to them he noticed that Vera was being carried away by her self-satisfied talk, but that Prince Andrew seemed embarrassed, a thing that rarely happened with him.
"What do you think?" Vera was saying with an arch smile. "You are so discerning, Prince, and understand people's characters so well at a glance. What do you think of Natalie? Could she be constant in her attachments? Could she, like other women" (Vera meant herself), "love a man once for all and remain true to him forever? That is what I consider true love. What do you think, Prince?"
"I know your sister too little," replied Prince Andrew, with a sarcastic smile under which he wished to hide his embarrassment, "to be able to solve so delicate a question, and then I have noticed that the less attractive a woman is the more constant she is likely to be," he added, and looked up Pierre who was just approaching them.
"Yes, that is true, Prince. In our days," continued Vera - mentioning "our days" as people of limited intelligence are fond of doing, imagining that they have discovered and appraised the peculiarities of "our days" and that human characteristics change with the times - "in our days a girl has so much freedom that the pleasure of being courted often stifles real feeling in her. And it must be confessed that Natalie is very susceptible." This return to the subject of Natalie caused Prince Andrew to knit his brows with discomfort: he was about to rise, but Vera continued with a still more subtle smile:
"I think no one has been more courted than she," she went on, "but till quite lately she never cared seriously for anyone. Now you know, Count," she said to Pierre, "even our dear cousin Boris, who, between ourselves, was very far gone dans le pays du tendre..." (alluding to a map of love much in vogue at that time).
Prince Andrew frowned and remained silent.
"You are friendly with Boris, aren't you?" asked Vera.
"Yes, I know him..."
"I expect he has told you of his childish love for Natasha?"
"Oh, there was childish love?" suddenly asked Prince Andrew, blushing unexpectedly.
"Yes, you know between cousins intimacy often leads to love. Le cousinage est un dangereux voisinage. Don't you think so?"
"Oh, undoubtedly!" said Prince Andrew, and with sudden and unnatural liveliness he began chaffing Pierre about the need to be very careful with his fifty-year-old Moscow cousins, and in the midst of these jesting remarks he rose, taking Pierre by the arm, and drew him aside. (Volume Two, Part III, chapter 21)
Dans le pays du tendre (“in the land of tenderness”), a phrase used by Vera Berg (Natasha Rostov's elder sister) in allusion to a map of love much in vogue at that time, brings to mind “a toilet roll of the Cart du Tendre” (as Van calls Kim Beauharnais’s album):
In an equally casual tone of voice Van said: ‘Darling, you smoke too much, my belly is covered with your ashes. I suppose Bouteillan knows Professor Beauharnais’s exact address in the Athens of Graphic Arts.’
‘You shall not slaughter him,’ said Ada. ‘He is subnormal, he is, perhaps, blackmailerish, but in his sordidity, there is an istoshnïy ston (‘visceral moan’) of crippled art. Furthermore, this page is the only really naughty one. And let’s not forget that a copperhead of eight was also ambushed in the brush’.
‘Art my foute. This is the hearse of ars, a toilet roll of the Carte du Tendre! I’m sorry you showed it to me. That ape has vulgarized our own mind-pictures. I will either horsewhip his eyes out or redeem our childhood by making a book of it: Ardis, a family chronicle.’ (2.7)
Darkbloom (‘Notes to Ada’): Carte du Tendre: ‘Map of Tender Love’, sentimental allegory of the seventeenth century.
The surname of Kim Beauharnais (the kitchen boy and photographer at Ardis who is blinded by Van for spying on him and Ada and attempting to blackmail Ada, 2.11) seems to hint at Josephine Beauharnais (Napoleon’s first wife, Empress of France). During Van’s first tea party at Ardis Marina says that she used to love history and loved to identify herself with famous women, especially with famous beauties — Lincoln’s second wife or Queen Josephine:
They now had tea in a prettily furnished corner of the otherwise very austere central hall from which rose the grand staircase. They sat on chairs upholstered in silk around a pretty table. Ada’s black jacket and a pink-yellow-blue nosegay she had composed of anemones, celandines and columbines lay on a stool of oak. The dog got more bits of cake than it did ordinarily. Price, the mournful old footman who brought the cream for the strawberries, resembled Van’s teacher of history, ‘Jeejee’ Jones.
‘He resembles my teacher of history,’ said Van when the man had gone.
‘I used to love history,’ said Marina, ‘I loved to identify myself with famous women. There’s a ladybird on your plate, Ivan. Especially with famous beauties — Lincoln’s second wife or Queen Josephine.’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed — it’s beautifully done. We’ve got a similar set at home.’
‘Slivok (some cream)? I hope you speak Russian?’ Marina asked Van, as she poured him a cup of tea.
‘Neohotno no sovershenno svobodno (reluctantly but quite fluently),’ replied Van, slegka ulïbnuvshis’ (with a slight smile). ‘Yes, lots of cream and three lumps of sugar.’
‘Ada and I share your extravagant tastes. Dostoevski liked it with raspberry syrup.’
‘Pah,’ uttered Ada. (1.5)
Darkbloom (‘Notes to Ada’): with a slight smile: a pet formula of Tolstoy’s denoting cool superiority, if not smugness, in a character’s manner of speech.
The characters in “War and Peace” include Napoleon (who did not exist on Demonia, aka Antiterra, Earth’s twin planet on which Ada is set). In an interview on Lincoln (New York World, Feb. 7, 1909) attributed to Leo Tolstoy by Count S. Stakelberg Tolstoy several times mentions Napoleon:
Я начал с наших царей и их побед. Затем перешёл к чужеземным правителям и великим полководцам мира. Мой рассказ, казалось, произвёл на них глубокое впечатление. Наполеон их так заинтересовал, что они заставили меня сообщить мельчайшие подробности, например, какие были у него руки, какого он был роста, кто изготовлял ему пушки и пистолеты и какой масти был его конь.
I spoke at first of our Czars and of their victories; then I spoke of the foreign rulers and of some of the greatest military leaders. My talk seemed to impress them deeply. The story of Napoleon was so interesting to them that I had to tell them every detail, as, for instance, how his hands looked, how tall he was, who made his guns and pistols and the color of his horse.
Now, why was Lincoln so great that he overshadows all other national heroes? He really was not a great general like Napoleon or Washington; he was not such a skilful statesman as Gladstone or Frederick the Great; but his supremacy expresses itself altogether in his peculiar moral power and in the greatness of his character. He had come through many hardships and much experience to the realization that the greatest human achievement is love. He was what Beethoven was in music, Dante in poetry, Raphael in painting, and Christ in the philosophy of life. He aspired to be divine— and he was.
In Chapter Ten (II: 1-4) of Eugene Onegin Pushkin mentions not our cooks who plucked the two-headed eagle near Napoleon’s tent:
Его мы очень смирным знали,
Когда не наши повара
Орла двуглавого щипали
У Бонапартова шатра.
We knew him [Alexander I] to be very tame
when not our cooks
plucked the two-headed eagle
near Bonaparte's tent.
In the preceding stanza (Ten: I: 1-4) of EO Pushkin calls the tsar Alexander I “a ruler weak and wily, a baldish fop, a foe of toil, fortuitously by Fame befriended:”
Властитель слабый и лукавый,
Плешивый щеголь, враг труда,
Нечаянно пригретый славой,
Над нами царствовал тогда.
In his epigram on Alexander I, Ty i ya (“You and I,” 1817-20), Pushkin contrasts his living conditions with those of the tsar and, in the poem’s closing lines, mentions Khvostov’s hard ode used by Pushkin for a wiping purpose:
Ты богат, я очень беден;
Ты прозаик, я поэт;
Ты румян, как маков цвет,
Я как смерть и тощ, и бледен.
Не имея в век забот,
Ты живёшь в огромном доме;
Я ж средь горя и хлопот
Провожу дни на соломе.
Ешь ты сладко всякой день,
Тянешь вины на свободе,
И тебе не редко лень
Нужный долг отдать природе;
Я же с чёрствого куска,
От воды сырой и пресной,
Сажен за сто с чердака
За нуждой бегу известной.
Окружён рабов толпой,
С грозным деспотизма взором,
Афедрон ты жирный свой
Подтираешь коленкором;
Я же грешную дыру
Не балую детской модой
И Хвостова жесткой одой,
Хоть и морщуся, да тру.
…Surrounded with a crowd of slaves,
With a severe look of despotism,
you wipe up with calico
your fat Afedron.
And I with children's fashion
do not pamper my sinful hole
and, wincing, wipe it
with Khvostov's hard ode.
In his essay O Mil'tone i shatobrianovom perevode "Poteryannogo raya" ("On Milton and Chateaubriand's Translation of Paradise Lost," 1836) Pushkin criticizes Alfred de Vigny’s novel Cinq Mars (1826) in which Scudéry explains to the guests of Marion Delorme (cardinal de Richelieu's mistress) his allegorical map of love:
Альфред де Виньи в своём «Сен-Марсе» также выводит перед нами Мильтона и вот в каких обстоятельствах:
У славной Марии Делорм, любовницы кардинала Ришелье, собирается общество придворных и учёных. Скюдери толкует им свою аллегорическую карту любви. Гости в восхищении от крепости Красоты, стоящей на реке Гордости, от деревни Записочек, от гавани Равнодушия и проч. и проч. Все осыпают г-на Скюдери напыщенными похвалами, кроме Мольера, Корнеля и Декарта, которые тут же находятся. Вдруг хозяйка представляет обществу молодого путешествующего англичанина, по имени Джона Мильтона, и заставляет его читать гостям отрывки из «Потерянного Рая».
Except Molière, Corneille and Descartes, all guests of Marion Delorme are delighted with the fortress of Beauty on the river of Pride, with the village of Little Notes, with the harbor of Indifference, et cetera. Young Milton (whose eyes are red because of too much vigil or shedding too many tears) is asked to read aloud the excerpts from his Paradise Lost. In his essay Pushkin remarks that, actually, Milton composed Paradise Lost much later, when he was completely blind.
"Lincoln's second wife" (with whom Marina loved to identify herself) seems to hint at Milton's second marriage. Milton is the author of "The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce" (1643). Describing the difference between Terra and Antiterra, Van mentions the Amerussia of Abraham Milton:
Of course, today, after great anti-L years of reactionary delusion have gone by (more or less!) and our sleek little machines, Faragod bless them, hum again after a fashion, as they did in the first half of the nineteenth century, the mere geographic aspect of the affair possesses its redeeming comic side, like those patterns of brass marquetry, and bric-à-Braques, and the ormolu horrors that meant ‘art’ to our humorless forefathers. For, indeed, none can deny the presence of something highly ludicrous in the very configurations that were solemnly purported to represent a varicolored map of Terra. Ved’ (‘it is, isn’t it’) sidesplitting to imagine that ‘Russia,’ instead of being a quaint synonym of Estoty, the American province extending from the Arctic no longer vicious Circle to the United States proper, was on Terra the name of a country, transferred as if by some sleight of land across the ha-ha of a doubled ocean to the opposite hemisphere where it sprawled over all of today’s Tartary, from Kurland to the Kuriles! But (even more absurdly), if, in Terrestrial spatial terms, the Amerussia of Abraham Milton was split into its components, with tangible water and ice separating the political, rather than poetical, notions of ‘America’ and ‘Russia,’ a more complicated and even more preposterous discrepancy arose in regard to time — not only because the history of each part of the amalgam did not quite match the history of each counterpart in its discrete condition, but because a gap of up to a hundred years one way or another existed between the two earths; a gap marked by a bizarre confusion of directional signs at the crossroads of passing time with not all the no-longers of one world corresponding to the not-yets of the other. It was owing, among other things, to this ‘scientifically ungraspable’ concourse of divergences that minds bien rangés (not apt to unhobble hobgoblins) rejected Terra as a fad or a fantom, and deranged minds (ready to plunge into any abyss) accepted it in support and token of their own irrationality. (1.3)
“Bric-à-Braques” blends George Braques (a Cubist painter) with brikabrak (an antique shop), a word used by Tolstoy in “The Death of Ivan Ilyich:”
В столовой с часами, которым Иван Ильич так рад был, что купил в брикабраке, Пётр Иванович встретил священника и ещё несколько знакомых, приехавших на панихиду, и увидал знакомую ему красивую барышню, дочь Ивана Ильича.
In the dining-room where the clock stood that Ivan Ilyich was so glad that he had bought it at an antique shop, Pyotr Ivanovich met a priest and a few
acquaintances who had come to attend the service, and he recognized Ivan Ilyich’s daughter, a handsome young woman. (chapter I)
Alfred de Vigny’s Cinq Mars brings to mind 'Alphonse Cinq,' as Van dubbed the concierge at Alphonse Four (a hotel in Paris where Lucette stays):
The Bourbonian-chinned, dark, sleek-haired, ageless concierge, dubbed by Van in his blazer days ‘Alphonse Cinq,’ believed he had just seen Mlle Veen in the Récamier room where Vivian Vale’s golden veils were on show. With a flick of coattail and a swing-gate click, Alphonse dashed out of his lodge and went to see. Van’s eye over his umbrella crook traveled around a carousel of Sapsucker paperbacks (with that wee striped woodpecker on every spine): The Gitanilla, Salzman, Salzman, Salzman, Invitation to a Climax, Squirt, The Go-go Gang, The Threshold of Pain, The Chimes of Chose, The Gitanilla — here a Wall Street, very ‘patrician’ colleague of Demon’s, old Kithar K.L. Sween, who wrote verse, and the still older real-estate magnate Milton Eliot, went by without recognizing grateful Van, despite his being betrayed by several mirrors. (3.3)
Kim Beauharnais seems to be a son of Arkadiy Dolgoruki (the narrator and main character in Dostoevski's novel Podrostok, "The Adolescent," 1875) and Alphonsine, a French girl whom Arkadiy calls Alfonsinka. After his birth he was stolen by the Gypsies who somehow managed to smuggle him to Antiterra. In Dostoevski's novel Arkadiy accuses Alfonsinka (who stole a letter with which Lambert hopes to blackmail Katerina Akhmakov) of being shpion (a spy). After the family dinner in "Ardis the Second" Ada mentions spies from Terra:
He kissed her half-closed lips, gently and ‘morally’ as they defined moments of depth to distinguish them from the despair of passion.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘it’s fun to be two secret agents in an alien country. Marina has gone upstairs. Your hair is wet.’
‘Spies from Terra? You believe, you believe in the existence of Terra? Oh, you do! You accept it. I know you!’
‘I accept it as a state of mind. That’s not quite the same thing.’
‘Yes, but you want to prove it is the same thing.’
He brushed her lips with another religious’ kiss. Its edge, however, was beginning to catch fire.(1.38)
Kim Beauharnais is a spy from Terra. In Canto Three of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962) mentions Terra the Fair, Mars and gloomy Russian spies:
How to locate in blackness, with a gasp,
Terra the Fair, an orbicle of jasp. (ll. 557-558)
It was a year of Tempests: Hurricane
Lolita swept from Florida to Maine.
Mars glowed. Shahs married. Gloomy Russians spied.
Lang made your portrait. And one night I died. (ll. 679-82)n
In his Commentary Kinbote (Shade's mad commentator who imagines that he is Charles the Beloved, the last self-exiled king of Zembla) tells about two Soviet experts, Andronnikov and Niagarin. In "The Adolescent" Arkadiy Dolgoruki received Katerina Akhmakov's letter to Versilov from the late Andronnikov (Versilov's trustee). In his speech on Dostoevski Lunacharski (the minister of education in Lenin’s government) mentions the Niagara Falls:
Чтобы понять, что делает Достоевский с психикой - возьмём хотя бы такой пример - вода. Для того, чтобы дать человеку полное представление о воде, заставить его объять все её свойства, надо ему показать воду, пар, лёд, разделить воду на составные части, показать, что такое тихое озеро, величаво катящая свои волны река, водопад, фонтан и проч. Словом - ему нужно показать все свойства, всю внутреннюю динамику воды. И, однако, этого всё-таки будет мало. Может быть, для того, чтобы понять динамику воды, нужно превысить данные возможности и фантастически представить человеку Ниагару, в сотню раз грандиознейшую, чем подлинная. Вот Достоевский и стремится превозмочь реальность и показать дух человеческий со всеми его неизмеримыми высотами и необъяснимыми глубинами со всех сторон. Как Микель Анджело скручивает человеческие тела в конвульсиях, в агонии, так Достоевский дух человеческий то раздувает до гиперболы, то сжимает до полного уничтожения, смешивает с грязью, низвергает его в глубины ада, то потом вдруг взмывает в самые высокие эмпиреи неба. Этими полётами человеческого духа Достоевский не только приковывает наше внимание, захватывает нас, открывает нам новые неизведанные красоты, но даёт очень много и нашему познанию, показывая нам неподозреваемые нами глубины души.
To demonstrate what Dostoevski makes with a man’s psyche Lunacharski takes the example of water. Marina’s mad twin sister Aqua imagined that she could understand the language of her namesake, water:
She developed a morbid sensitivity to the language of tap water — which echoes sometimes (much as the bloodstream does predormitarily) a fragment of human speech lingering in one’s ears while one washes one’s hands after cocktails with strangers. Upon first noticing this immediate, sustained, and in her case rather eager and mocking but really quite harmless replay of this or that recent discourse, she felt tickled at the thought that she, poor Aqua, had accidentally hit upon such a simple method of recording and transmitting speech, while technologists (the so-called Eggheads) all over the world were trying to make publicly utile and commercially rewarding the extremely elaborate and still very expensive, hydrodynamic telephones and other miserable gadgets that were to replace those that had gone k chertyam sobach’im (Russian ‘to the devil’) with the banning of an unmentionable ‘lammer.’ Soon, however, the rhythmically perfect, but verbally rather blurred volubility of faucets began to acquire too much pertinent sense. The purity of the running water’s enunciation grew in proportion to the nuisance it made of itself. It spoke soon after she had listened, or been exposed, to somebody talking — not necessarily to her — forcibly and expressively, a person with a rapid characteristic voice, and very individual or very foreign phrasal intonations, some compulsive narrator’s patter at a horrible party, or a liquid soliloquy in a tedious play, or Van’s lovely voice, or a bit of poetry heard at a lecture, my lad, my pretty, my love, take pity, but especially the more fluid and flou Italian verse, for instance that ditty recited between knee-knocking and palpebra-lifting, by a half-Russian, half-dotty old doctor, doc, toc, ditty, dotty, ballatetta, deboletta... tu, voce sbigottita... spigotty e diavoletta... de lo cor dolente... con ballatetta va... va... della strutta, destruttamente... mente... mente... stop that record, or the guide will go on demonstrating as he did this very morning in Florence a silly pillar commemorating, he said, the ‘elmo’ that broke into leaf when they carried stone-heavy-dead St Zeus by it through the gradual, gradual shade; or the Arlington harridan talking incessantly to her silent husband as the vineyards sped by, and even in the tunnel (they can’t do this to you, you tell them, Jack Black, you just tell them...). Bathwater (or shower) was too much of a Caliban to speak distinctly — or perhaps was too brutally anxious to emit the hot torrent and get rid of the infernal ardor — to bother about small talk; but the burbly flowlets grew more and more ambitious and odious, and when at her first ‘home’ she heard one of the most hateful of the visiting doctors (the Cavalcanti quoter) garrulously pour hateful instructions in Russian-lapped German into her hateful bidet, she decided to stop turning on tap water altogether. (1.3)
According to Van, Aqua’s real destination was Terra the Fair:
Actually, Aqua was less pretty, and far more dotty, than Marina. During her fourteen years of miserable marriage she spent a broken series of steadily increasing sojourns in sanatoriums. A small map of the European part of the British Commonwealth — say, from Scoto-Scandinavia to the Riviera, Altar and Palermontovia — as well as most of the U.S.A., from Estoty and Canady to Argentina, might be quite thickly prickled with enameled red-cross-flag pins, marking, in her War of the Worlds, Aqua’s bivouacs. She had plans at one time to seek a modicum of health (‘just a little grayishness, please, instead of the solid black’) in such Anglo-American protectorates as the Balkans and Indias, and might even have tried the two Southern Continents that thrive under our joint dominion. Of course, Tartary, an independent inferno, which at the time spread from the Baltic and Black seas to the Pacific Ocean, was touristically unavailable, though Yalta and Altyn Tagh sounded strangely attractive… But her real destination was Terra the Fair and thither she trusted she would fly on libellula long wings when she died. Her poor little letters from the homes of madness to her husband were sometimes signed: Madame Shchemyashchikh-Zvukov (‘Heart rending-Sounds’). (ibid.)
In H. G. Wells's novel The War of the Worlds (1898) the Martians invade Earth.
The Amerussia of Abraham Milton brings to mind Milton Abraham with whose invaluable help Aqua organized a Phree Pharmacy in Belokonsk (the Antiterran twin of Whitehorse, a city in NW Canada):
In her erratic student years Aqua had left fashionable Brown Hill College, founded by one of her less reputable ancestors, to participate (as was also fashionable) in some Social Improvement project or another in the Severnïya Territorii. She organized with Milton Abraham’s invaluable help a Phree Pharmacy in Belokonsk, and fell grievously in love there with a married man, who after one summer of parvenu passion dispensed to her in his Camping Ford garçonnière preferred to give her up rather than run the risk of endangering his social situation in a philistine town where businessmen played ‘golf’ on Sundays and belonged to ‘lodges.’ The dreadful sickness, roughly diagnosed in her case, and in that of other unfortunate people, as an ‘extreme form of mystical mania combined with existalienation’ (otherwise plain madness), crept over her by degrees, with intervals of ecstatic peace, with skipped areas of precarious sanity, with sudden dreams of eternity-certainty, which grew ever rarer and briefer. (ibid.)
In his story for children "Milton and Bulka" Tolstoy describes his clever dog Milton, a pointer that helped Tolstoy in his pheasant hunts:
Я завёл себе для фазанов легавую собаку. Собаку эту звали Мильтон: она была высокая, худая, крапчатая по серому, с длинными брылами и ушами и очень сильная и умная. С Булькой они не грызлись. Ни одна собака никогда не огрызалась на Бульку. Он, бывало, только покажет свои зубы, и собаки поджимают хвосты и отходят прочь. Один раз я пошел с Мильтоном за фазанами. Вдруг Булька прибежал за мной в лес. Я хотел прогнать его, но никак не мог. А идти домой, чтобы отвести его, было далеко. Я думал, что он не будет мешать мне, и пошел дальше; но только что Мильтон почуял в траве фазана и стал искать, Булька бросился вперед и стал соваться во все стороны. Он старался прежде Мильтона поднять фазана. Он что-то такое слышал в траве, прыгал, вертелся: но чутье у него плохое, и он не мог найти следа один, а смотрел на Мильтона и бежал туда, куда шёл Мильтон. Только что Мильтон тронется по следу, Булька забежит вперед. Я отзывал Бульку, бил, но ничего не мог сделать с ним. Как только Мильтон начинал искать, он бросался вперед и мешал ему. Я хотел уже идти домой, потому что думал, что охота моя испорчена, во Мильтон лучше меня придумал, как обмануть Бульку. Он вот что сделал: как только Булька забежит ему вперед, Мильтон бросит след, повернет в другую сторону и притворится, что он ищет. Булька бросится туда, куда показал Мильтон, а Мильтон оглянется на меня, махнет хвостом и пойдет опять по настоящему следу. Булька опять прибегает к Мильтону, забегает вперед, и опять Мильтон нарочно сделает шагов десять в сторону, обманет Бульку и опять поведёт меня прямо. Так что всю охоту он обманывал Бульку и не дал ему испортить дело.
Describing his meeting with Marina in a public park, Van mentions pheasants in a big cage:
Some ten years ago, not long before or after his fourth birthday, and toward the end of his mother’s long stay in a sanatorium, ‘Aunt’ Marina had swooped upon him in a public park where there were pheasants in a big cage. She advised his nurse to mind her own business and took him to a booth near the band shell where she bought him an emerald stick of peppermint candy and told him that if his father wished she would replace his mother and that you could not feed the birds without Lady Amherst’s permission, or so he understood. (1.5)
During his first tea party at Ardis Van recalls the cage in the park and Aqua somewhere in a cage of her own:
Marina’s portrait, a rather good oil by Tresham, hanging above her on the wall, showed her wearing the picture hat she had used for the rehearsal of a Hunting Scene ten years ago, romantically brimmed, with a rainbow wing and a great drooping plume of black-banded silver; and Van, as he recalled the cage in the park and his mother somewhere in a cage of her own, experienced an odd sense of mystery as if the commentators of his destiny had gone into a huddle. Marina’s face was now made up to imitate her former looks, but fashions had changed, her cotton dress was a rustic print, her auburn locks were bleached and no longer tumbled down her temples, and nothing in her attire or adornments echoed the dash of her riding crop in the picture and the regular pattern of her brilliant plumage which Tresham had rendered with ornithological skill. (ibid.)
There are many hunting scenes in "War and Peace" and "Anna Kerenin."
Let me draw your attention to the updated version of my previous post, “Mercury in Ada” (https://thenabokovian.org/node/35692).